I Need a Holiday!
by impr0mptu
Summary: Integra gets ordered to take a holiday, whats worse is she has to drag half of the Hellsing household with her. Hilarity ensues! Rated M for strong languaue and adult content in later chapters. AU. IXA, IXOC, AXS, WXOC.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello and good day to you all!**

**I'm taking a bit of a leap of faith here so bear with me, this fanfic is going to be a POTENTIAL re-write of my other fic 'On Her Majesty's Orders'. Now the reason I'm doing this is simple. I don't like my other one, well more to the point I wasnt having fun with it. I think I was focusing too much on detail (which is great but I wanted to write something more funny :P) and not enough on making it an entertaining read. **

**So.**

**I'm going to do a couple of chapters in this format to test the waters so to speak. So if you've read my other fic please let me know what you think. The chapters for this will be short however very frequent in numbers and written from the character's perspectives rather than from an external perspective.**

**Please read & review, hope you like it :3**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hellsing or any related characters (sadly).**

_- From Integra's Perspective -_

My eyes open, only to be greeted by pain as the morning light pierces them with fiery vengeance.

That'll teach me to never sleep in again.

Stupid light.

Reluctantly I pull myself out of the warm and fuzzy cocoon that was my bed and make my way towards the en suit.

*Thump!*

That is, after I'm done tripping over my own fucking slippers.

I curse under my breath at them as I kick them aside.

I hate mornings.

Good. I'm in the bathroom. Then I look in the mirror and see a heartless un-feminine face glaring back at me. God what a sight. Bags under my eyes, my long blonde hair looks horrifically matted and I look noticeably paler than usual. I hate being sick.

Still there's work to do.

As always.

I jump in the shower and spend a few blissful moments soaking in the near boiling water, the smell of my lavender shower gel helps clear my head and I find myself finally beginning to wake up.

Ok shower done, next priority.

Nicotine.

…Wait…

"Fuck!"

None left? I swore I brought a new pack in with me last night?

Nope. None in the other drawer either…

To hell with it, I'll just have to wait till I get in the damned office then.

I get dressed in a hurry, my desire for nicotine far outweighing my desire to look nice. Besides you can't exactly screw up putting on a suit when you've done it as many times as I have.

Finally, I make it to the two large doors that mark the entrance to my office, my own private kingdom.

I walk through the threshold only to be immediately reminded why I was in bed in the first place.

Walter Dornez.

"Sir Integra, what on earth are you doing up and about?" He asked incredulously.

"I woke up?"

"Not a good enough excuse. Try again."

"Where are my cigars?"

"No."

"What?"

"Not when you're sick Sir Integra."

"I'm not sick. I'm simply… a little…under the weather."

No, I'm exhausted.

"No, you're exhausted."

See? Even he knows.

I need a holiday…

X X X

Files, files and more files. The story of my life it seems.

As much as I appreciate Walter caring for me when I'm unwell he can only do so much of my workload, the sprawling sea of paper drowning my desk is the result. I swear to god it's as if these things are breeding!

Of course such a thought is absurd, right?

I hope so.

Anyway, back to work Integra, you're slacking again. I work away for what feels like days. Reading through mission reports, budget calculations, cost estimates. You name it and I've read it, and signed it, thrice. It's a never ending cycle of read, sign, file. Read, sign, file. Read, sign, file. Read, sign, file.

"Ugh..."

***THWUMP***

Sunnova...

Fell asleep again...I think something a bit stronger than Earl Grey tea is required.

I turn to the intercom and hit one of the dial numbers. I hope

*BEEP*

_"Yes, Sir Integra?"_

"Walter, can you bring up a **_strong_** brew of coffee?"

_"Of course, Sir. Would you like to take lunch whilst you're at it?"_

"Yes please."

_"Very well Sir, I'll be up in twenty minutes."_

True to his word, Walter arrives twenty minutes later. He's brought up a lovely egg salad sandwich accompanied by a massive mug of beautiful, hot, nurturing coffee. I thank him earnestly and he knows I appreciate it as I catch him noticing what must be ink stains on my forehead from when I face planted the desk.

"I still think you should be resting Sir Integra."

I sigh. Of course I should! But Hellsing doesn't rest, so neither can I.

"I'm fine Walter. Just a little tired today." I wave him off give him that little smile, the one that basically says I'm not going to budge no matter how much of your butlery magic you conjure.

Thankfully he got the message. With a fine bow and a fond farewell he leaves me to enjoy my lunch before I delve once more into my unending sea of paper.

Where's a flamethrower when I need one?

**A/N: Alright guys, let me know what you think? And yes I know Integra may be a little OOC but I've mainly limited this to her own personal thoughts and not her actuall actions/behaviour. More chapters coming soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Ok chappy 2 is here! Yay, as I said in chapter 1 this is me trialing a rewrite for my fic 'On Her Majesty's Orders'. Im writing it from the perspective of the character's this time which gives me a lot more to work with in terms of actually making it a fun and entertaining read :)**

**Hope you like! R&R!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing or anything affiliated (sadly =[)**

_-From Integra's Perspective-_

He's a bastard.

He's a smug, irritating bastard.

No. He's a smug, irritating, psychotic bastard who likes to shoot the fucking tyres off my fucking Rolls-fucking-Royce!

You know what? Fuck it.

"Alucard…"

*BLAM*

"I swear…"

*BLAM*

"If you EVER do that again..."

*BLAM*

"It will be the last thing you do on God's green earth!"

*BLAM*

"Do I make myself clear, servant?"

"Yes, my master…"

"Good. Now get out of my sight before I shoot the **_other_** testicle."

XXXX

I can't believe he shot the bloody tyres! Ok, no, I **_can_** believe he shot the bloody tyres but I'm still pissed that he did. I honestly don't understand it, what is so threatening about a Round Table conference? I'm not blind, I know Alucard **_hates_** Sir Irons; he was banned from these conferences for a reason. A very, very good reason… but I simply cannot fathom why he goes to such lengths to prevent me from attending.

Ok I **_can _**fathom why he goes to such lengths. We all know that bunch of old men wants to wrest Hellsing's control away from me, but we also know that's **_never_** going to happen. The other knights have no control over Alucard and I certainly would never allow them to have any access to him, I'd let him eat them before that happens.

An annoying, foul monster he may be, but Alucard is **_my_** servant!

I just wish he'd stop ravaging my poor cars; the budget's tough enough as it is.

I look over to Walter who's sitting opposite me in the back of the Rolls.

Obviously a different Rolls Royce… because Mr Trigger-Happy wrote the other one off…

"Walter, let's do another run down on today's agenda." I suggest in an attempt to distract my thoughts. I had a feeling this was going to be a far more boring conference than usual.

"Very well, Sir" He replies, chipper as always.

How can anybody be happy when they have to be dragged to one of these god awful events? He must see some secret amusement in it, I'm sure of it.

This is going to be a long day.

"Ok first on the agenda…annual budget reviews and fiscal reports."

Ugh, this is going to be a **_very_** long day.

XXXX


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Ok next chapter's up! W00T! Hope the new writing format makes it a bit more of a captivating read compared to the other version of this fic. ALL feeback is welcome :)**

**Disclaimer: Again, I dont own hellsing or anything affiliated with it (sad face)**

Four hours.

We've been at this for _**four **_hours now.

I swear to god if Sir Penwood opens his mouth again I'm going to shove one of these jam scones down his jugular.

I don't know how much more of this I can tolerate.

The conference started off well enough. There were the usual greetings as each respective knight arrived at Sir Iron's manor, my least favourite place to go to for a round table gathering. We exchanged friendly banter, they'd make some sexist comment about a woman running a powerful organisation such as Hellsing, I'd retort with some emasculating insult usually relating to their small genitalia, and then the cycle repeats itself.

Eventually all of us were assembled and we could finally dispense with the un-pleasantries as we got down to business.

As far as opening topics go I could not think of anything less motivating for us than to have read through over fifty pages of budget reports. This should be on the list of banned torture methods signed under the Geneva Convention.

Long story short we were all apparently spending too much money, Sir Penwood and Sir Williams attempted to accuse my organisation of overspending, this was folly of course. We run the smallest staff out of everyone here and even with the expensive insurance claims related to Alucard's wanton property destruction we somehow manage to stay in the black.

I quickly corrected them and promptly went on to point out their own budget failings in the forms of Sir Penwood's flashy new aircraft carrier acquisitions and Sir William's obsession with updating our computer systems every 30 seconds. A quick smirk from Sir Iron's across the table confirmed my victory.

That sort of set the tone for the whole day, really.

XXXX

Over.

It's finally over.

Well the formal part is anyway.

We've now moved into the main living room of the manor, it's well decorated and equipped I admit, but I still prefer my own. Some of the men are sitting down at the far table by the window, playing a casual game of poker it would seem. Penwood appears to be losing if the torrent of sweat dripping down his face is any indicator. Then again he always looks like he's about to pass out.

Some of the others are in the adjacent room, admiring Sir Iron's gun collection. If he wasn't such a stuck up aristocrat I think I'd enjoy hunting with him, on the rare occasion. Sadly God decided to grace him with the brain of a man stuck in the eighteen hundreds, a shame really, when I realise he's the only other **_intelligent_** member of the council apart from myself.

I mull over these amusing thoughts as I stand by the fire in the living room, keeping myself as far away from everyone else without appearing rude. They don't seem to mind. Doesn't surprise me really, they all wish I were a man anyway; they seem to be under the illusion that I'd be easier to work with if that were the case.

Perhaps. Perhaps not. My father was an absolute handful for them and he didn't have a vagina. Sexist idiots.

I wish I could escape like Walter can. He's off merrily socialising with the house staff somewhere else in the mansion, I find myself increasingly envious of his opportunity for an easy reprieve from this awkward gathering. Perhaps I should resign and take up work as a house maid? What an amusing prospect. Somehow I think I lack the skills that Walter has managed to master over the years; how he puts up with me is still an enigma I'm yet to solve.

What this? Oh, they're walking over here. Shame, I was enjoying my solitude.

Sir Robert's is saying something, though I can't seem to register the exact words. I just nod my head and pretend to seem vaguely interested.

Is it me or is this room darker than it was before?

Hm, oh Sir Robert's is saying something else. He's got a quizzical expression on his face; whats got him so concerned.

It's getting quite warm here; perhaps I should move away from the fire.

I make an attempt to move but nothing comes of it, I lurch forward a little but that's it. What's going on? The others have walked back into the room and are heading this way.

It's getting too crowded here, I feel like some fresh air.

I take a few steps and then the floor falls away, a sudden numbness overcomes me for a few moments.

Then there's nothing but darkness.

….and then feeling of a solid mahogany coffee table coming into contact with my head.

Ow.


End file.
